1962?
by FanFicWriter95
Summary: A teenage girl from 2018 suddenly finds herself in 1962. Luckily, the Turner family is there to help. Warning: contains spanking of teenagers. Story 1 in the Emma Turner series. Story is completed, will upload one chapter a day.
1. Chapter 1

Running away is nearly as easy as they say. You only really have to stay quiet. And let that be the one thing Emma had trouble doing tonight.

She tried her best to be quiet. She didn't want to risk waking up any of the other people in the home. She didn't want to think about what would happen to her if she was caught sneaking out of this place. But it was an old house and Emma felt like a breathe alone would made the walls creak.

As quietly as she could, she collected the few things she owned and stuffed them into her backpack. She recounted the pounds she has collected. She stuffed it in the front pocket of her bag. She slung the bag over her shoulder and, with one last look around the room, she quietly closed the door behind her.

She waited for a moment, making sure she hadn't awoken anyone. She took a relieved breath. She hadn't. She tiptoed to the barrister. She couldn't help but look at the picture frames on the wall. Portraits of happy people. They were lucky, she thought. Being happy is a privilege, and one not reserved for her.

Emma crept down the stairs, putting down each step gently.

The stairs creaked. Emma held her breath. For a few seconds, she remained on the same step, her heart was beating in her chest. No sound from upstairs.

She hurried down the next few steps and made it safely to the landing.

She rushed out of the door, closing it gently behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma smiled. She made it out of that house. She could do a celebratory jump, but it would draw the attention on her and that's exactly what she didn't want. She wanted to be gone for hours, before they even noticed she had vanished.

Emma crossed the street. Every house was dark. It seemed like the whole town was still asleep. She loved this time of night. When no one else was awake, not even the sun, and she was all alone.

Emma soon left the town behind her. She wasn't running, but she set a quick pace, wanting to put as much distance between her and the house.

She walked for hours. She didn't stop for food or a drink, she just kept walking. She stayed close to the towns, but never quite went in. She didn't want to be seen. She didn't want to be tracked.

Emma cursed. The path she has been following seems to lead straight in to the forest. She looked behind her, at the brightly lit city. She had no other choice. With a heavy heart, she continued walking.

Inside the forest, it was darker than expected. There were lots of sounds around her, most of them she doesn't recognise.

Emma shivered. The cold air had creeped into the forest. She sped up, hoping the end was in sight. She didn't want to spend another minute in this place.

Suddenly, a searing headache came out of nowhere. She fell backwards, onto the damp grass. "Ow." She said, as she felt her forehead. A bump was forming. She cursed as she crawled back up.

Emma frowned. The tree in front of her, had it always been there? She couldn't quite remember. Had she hit her head that bad?

She looked around. The trees were much denser than she remembered. The grass higher. She frowned. What in the world is going on? How long had she been out?


	3. Chapter 3

Emma managed to find her way through the trees, and to the other side of the forest. She sighed. On the horizon, she could see a city. She just wasn't sure which one. It had to be London, but it looked so differently. Where was the London Eye? The Gherkin? All the big towers?

Her hands shook as she wiped them on her trousers. She was sweating. Her heart kept pounding. It can't be true, and yet this is more proof that things have gone very wrong.

Suddenly, she saw movement. She spotted it out of the corner of her eye. It was moving towards her. It took her longer than she'd like to admit, for her to realise it was a person. She groaned when she saw it was a teenage boy.

She took a couple of steps back, her eyes still focused on the unwelcome visitor. Suddenly the boy stopped, and looked up.

Emma quickly ducked behind the tree. She hoped he hadn't seen her. Her heart was beating fast. She felt ashamed. What was she doing, hiding behind trees at the sight of another human. She shook her head. How childish. But she couldn't help it. Something wasn't right. And until she figured out what that was, she had to be careful. This could be a dangerous place.

"Hello?"

Emma held her breath. She hoped the boy wouldn't come and look for her. She tried to stay as still as she could. She closed her eyes. She knew it was childish, but she couldn't help thinking, if she couldn't see him then he couldn't see her.

Emma waited until she didn't hear anything for several minutes. She wanted to be sure he was really gone. She took a couple of deep breaths and slowly peeked around the trunk.

Nothing. She saw nothing. No figures. No animals. No shadows. Only open fields and factories. She sighed in relief. Crisis averted.

It has gotten dark now. The last few hours, Emma had spent looking at the skyline, in the safety of the trees. Undisturbed. On the one hand, it gave her the peace and quiet she had been looking for. On the other hand, it gave her time to think.

She had been staring at the horizon. She had refused to think about her friends, until now. The edge of the woods reminded her at the park she used to play in. The place she frequented with her boyfriend. The place she said her goodbye. She forced her tears away. There was no point in crying. It wouldn't help her now.

Suddenly, Emma looked up. She heard the riffling of leaves and quickly stood up. Her heart was hammering in her throat. She knew how dangerous woods could be, and she cursed herself for not taking some sort of protection. She looked around herself, looking for a stick or something. Her eyes fell on a heavy rock and she picked it up. She held it tightly in her hand.

The sounds grew closer. Emma prepared herself, holding out the stone in one hand, ready to strike. And just in time, the sounds had reached the open area. Out of the bushes stepped, something. No, someone. A boy. The boy. The boy from that morning. He had come back.

Emma felt herself relax, but she still held on to the rock. You can never be too careful, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

The boy came closer.

Emma swallowed, and took two steps back.

The boy held up his hands. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you. I brought something for you." He opened his bag and took out a little package. He held it out to her. "It's a cheese sandwich." He smiled softly.

Emma hesitated, but reached out and took the package from him. "Thanks." She immediately opened the paper and started to eat. She hadn't realised just how hungry she had become.

"You're not from here, are you?" The boy asked, as Emma was chewing up the last bits of the sandwich.

Emma hesitated, before shaking her head. If only he knew.

"You stand out." The boy said. He opened his bag again, and handed her a dress. "It's from the donation box. I hope it fits." The boy blushed. "I wasn't sure."

Emma accepted the dress. It was light pink and checked. She held it in her hands. He was nice, but Emma couldn't shake of her suspicions. "Why are you helping me?"

The boy shrugged. "My parents taught me to always help out when I can."

"Sounds like good parents."

"They are." The boy shifted on his feet. "My name's Timothy, by the way."

"Emma."

Timothy smiled. "Nice to meet you, Emma."

Emma smiled back.

"Are you okay? Looks like you've been bleeding." Timothy was looking at her arms.

Emma looked down. Her jeans had been torn in places. Her arms were covered in small cuts. "It's okay. Just thorns." Her hand reached up to her forehead. "Hit my head, though."

"Yeah, that can hurt." Timothy replied. "But since you're still talking, I don't think you need any medical attention." He shifted on his feet. "I suggest you sit down, though."

Emma chuckled. "Yeah, I probably should." She sat down on the grass, leaning against a big oak tree.

Timothy sat down where he stood, about a meter away.

Emma hesitated. She didn't want to have her fears proven right. "What day is it today?"

Timothy grinned. "February second."

Emma nodded. At least the date hasn't changed. She hesitated. She didn't want him thinking she was stupid. "What year is it again?"

Timothy laughed. "You must have hit your head pretty hard, to not remember that." He smiled at her. "It's 1962."

Emma sucked in a deep breath. Oh god. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." Timothy rolled his eyes, still smiling. "I've had a whole month to get used to the new number. I'm not a moron."

Chapter

Emma hesitated. But she could no longer bear this burden by herself. She took a deep breath, before turning to Timothy. "Can you keep a secret?"

Timothy frowned. "Is something wrong? Is that why you're here? Are you running from something? I won't tell anyone I saw you."

"That's very kind of you, but that's not what I meant."

Emma took a deep breath. "You said I stood up, what did you mean with that?"

Timothy shrugged. "Your clothes are different. The way you talk. The way you act. You're not from here."

"You're right." Emma sniffed. "I'm not from here."

"Why did you come here?"

"I don't know." Emma shook her head. "I didn't mean to. I just was." A tear fell down her cheek.

Timothy scooted closer. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. Something happened, and I don't know how or why. It's something unbelievable, something unexplainable. Impossible. And yet, here I am, with you, in 1962." She took a deep breath, and turned her face away from the boy. She couldn't look him in the eyes. "When I left the house this morning, it wasn't 1962. It was 2018."

Timothy stayed quiet for a while. When he did speak, his voice was a whisper "Are you sure it's not just your head mixing up your thoughts?"

"I'm sure." Emma whispered back.

"Okay." The boy nodded. He blew out his breath. "I don't know how this happened, but I'm glad you ended up in 1962."

"You believe me?" Emma asked. She couldn't believe it.

Timothy shrugged. "I knew you were different. I thought you were from another country, though, not from another century." He smiled. "I believe in science, time travel is not beyond the possibilities."

Emma smiled. "You're not exactly what I expected."

Timothy smiled. "What are you going to do?"

Emma shrugged. "I haven't thought that far, to be honest." She sighed. "I have been thinking all evening, trying to figure out what happened. Once I figure that out, I can start to work on a way back."

"What if there is no way back?"

Emma sighed. "I don't really want to think about that right now." She sighed again.

"Why don't you come to Poplar with me?"

Emma frowned. "Poplar?"

"It's where I live." Timothy shrugged. "You could stay there. It's close by, so you can always come back to the forest. But we'll better wait until it gets dark."

"Don't you have to go home? Won't your parents wonder where you are?" She smiled. "Don't get me wrong, I am glad I'm not here by myself, but I'm sure you have someplace to be."

Timothy shook his head. "I told them I was having dinner with Jack. He's my best friend. They won't expect me back until the evening."

Emma nodded. "As long as I'm not getting you in trouble."

"I guess you don't have anywhere to stay?"

Emma chuckled. "You shouldn't worry about me. I'll find some place. You've already done too much."

"I have a place you can stay. My mother used to work there. I know where they keep the spare key."

"That's very kind of you, but I don't want to impose. You've already done so much."

"You're not imposing, really. It's a kind of hospital. Anyway, they wouldn't mind. They take in people like you, all the time. Well, not exactly like you."

Emma smiled. "Okay, then." She nodded. "If you're sure. But I'm paying you."

"I am. Sure, that is." He stood up, dusting the mud from his trousers. "You should probably get dressed first. Else, you'll draw quite the attention."

Emma also stood up. She shrugged out of her coat.

Timothy blushed and quickly turned around. He hadn't expected her to get changed in front of him.

Emma chuckled. She took off her sweater and put on the dress, on top of her t-shirt. It was a tight fit, but it would work. She wiggled out of her jeans and stuffed her clothes into the backpack. "You can turn back around." She smiled. "It's safe now."

Timothy handed her the coat she dropped. "Here. You'll be cold without it."

Emma smiled. "Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

Timothy shivered. They had been walking for a while now. The air was getting colder.

"Hang on." Emma said. She took of her bag and shrugged off her coat. "Here, take it." She held it out to Timothy.

Timothy shook his head. "You'll be cold."

"And now you're cold." Emma sighed. "I have two more jumpers in my bag. Unless you want to wear a dark pink jumper instead." She raised her eyebrows.

Timothy smiled. "I'll take the coat, then. Thanks." He put on the coat. It was a little short, but it would keep him warm. He felt something heavy, and checked the pocket. He wrapped his hand around the object and took it out. He frowned.

"You took the stone with you."

Emma blushed. She had hoped he wouldn't notice. "I wasn't sure that I could trust you, yet."

"I'm not going to hurt you." Timothy said. She could hear the hurt clearly in his voice.

"I know that." Emma sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just not used to kindness like this. Where I'm from, teenage boys… Let's just say they don't always have the purest intentions."

Timothy frowned. "I hope you're not speaking from experience."

Emma snorted. "I can handle my own." She sighed. "And I am sorry. I just needed something. Something that made me feel a little safer."

"Of course you should have kept it. I guess I just didn't realise how I might come across to you. Or anyone else. Especially since you're not used to how things are here."

Emma shrugged. "Let's just talk about something else, okay? Why don't you tell me about Poplar? I'd like to know what sort of place I'm ending up in."

And so he did. He told her about life in poplar. The school. The city. The people. The rest of the way was filled with laughter.

"I can't wait to see their face when they find out you're from the future." Timothy said, smiling.

"Should we tell them, though?" Emma said, a bit worried about how the people would respond. "How are we supposed to explain me?"

"Well, they will ask questions if we don't say anything. They'll know you're not from here." He smiled softly when he noticed her worried expression. "You don't need to worry, they're very religious. They'll think you're an angel send down to earth."

"Or a demon send up from hell."

Timothy smiled. "They're good people. They'll believe you."

Emma nodded. She hoped so.

They had been walking for almost an hour when Timothy whispered. "It's right around the corner."

Emma nodded. She could feel the fear gripping at her throat. "You're sure I can stay here?"

"I am. But we do have to be quiet." Timothy whispered. "We shouldn't wake them up."

Emma nodded. That wouldn't be a problem. She had plenty of experience with staying quiet. No one would know she was there.

She looked up at the building. It didn't look much like a hospital to her. With its brick walls, and steep stairs. It looked more like a church to her. One of the ancient ones you read about in history books.

Timothy searched along the ground, his shoe grazing the stones. "Aha." He said, as his shoe made contact with a loose stone. "Found it."

He picked up the stone, and wriggled the key loose. He struggled with the door. First, with finding the key hole, and then with opening the door.

Emma couldn't help looking around. She wanted to make sure nobody would see them. They'd think they were breaking in.

Finally, Timothy managed to open the door. The door swung open easily. Emma couldn't quite hide her surprise. She had expected it to creak.

"The nun's will wake up in a few hours." Timothy whispered, guiding her through the building. "You'll have to be gone by then."

Emma nodded. She had always been a light sleeper. At the first sound of movement, she would sneak out. She looked at her clock. It was almost ten. If the nuns wake up at 4, she could have a few hours of rest. She could easily go on only four hours of sleep.

Timothy softly walked down the hall. "This is the dryer room." He whispered. "Nobody really comes here. And especially not this late at night." He looked around the small room with an apologetic smile. "It isn't much, but you'll be safe here." He took of the coat, handing it back to her.

Emma nodded. She didn't mind. She has slept in far worse places. "It's perfect. Thanks."

"I have to go." Timothy looked around the room. He reached for a notepad and a pencil. "This is my address. Meet me there at 9. We'll figure out what to do next."

Emma nodded. "Thanks." She stifled a yawn.

Timothy smiled knowingly. "I'll let you get some rest. See you tomorrow, if you haven't travelled back in time some more."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I doubt it." She smiled. "Goodnight, Tim. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight Emma." He softly closed the door behind him.

Emma laid down her bag and her coat. She took of her boots. She took of the dress, folding it and putting it to the side. She laid down, resting her head on her bag. She draped the coat over herself and closed her eyes. She hoped sleep would come soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Emma was true to her word. When she heard the movement in the room on top of hers, she quickly made her way out of the dryer room. One of the plus sides of sleeping in your clothes, is that you can make a quick getaway.

The city was different in the daytime. It had looked so scary and desolate at night. But now, there were people walking and talking, everywhere. Emma could easily blend in with the crowd. Even so, she kept herself close to the buildings.

She had no clue where to go. Timothy had given her an address, but not a map. Although she could never reading a name quite similar to that one, yesterday evening. It had stood out, because it had reminded her of home. 'Oak lane.' Emma figured the street she was looking for, must be around there somewhere.

She wasn't sure whether she should ask someone for directions. She didn't want to be remembered. She looked at her watch again. It was only seven o'clock. She sighed. Two more hours before she would meet up with Timothy. At least that gave her enough time to find his street.

She kept walking, trying her best to recreate last night's route in her head. It proved harder than expected, the darkness not helping matters. It took her another 40 minutes before she finally found the street she was looking for. With a relieved sigh, she sat down on one of the benches on the sidewalk. She had a clear view of number 16, Timothy's house. She'd wait here.

The next hour and a half, she spend looking down the street. Twice, door number 16 opened. Both times, she had averted her gaze. It wouldn't be good if she was recognised.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I had to make sure my little sister made it to nursery." Timothy said, walking towards her.

Emma stood up, and smiled. "No problem. I have been enjoying the quiet."

"Come." Timothy said. "Let's go inside. It's warmer there."

Timothy opened the door, letting Emma enter first. He lead her through to the lounge. She looked around the room. This is not what she expected a '60 house to look like. Where's all the orange? The circles? The wallpaper?

"Do you want some tea?" Timothy asked, disappearing into the kitchen.

"I'd love some, thanks." Emma sat down at the table. Emma took another look around the room. "This is a really nice house."

Timothy answered from the kitchen. "Thanks."

"I'm glad you came." He said, placing the cup and saucer in front of her, as well as a packet of custard creams. "I wasn't sure you would."

"Well, you didn't make it easy." Emma said, smiling.

"Yeah." Timothy said, scratching the back of his head. "I kind of forgot."

Emma shrugged. "It's fine. I made it, and that's the point."

In a pause in conversation, Timothy cleared his throat. "I have to tell my parents about you. maybe they can help."

Emma shook her head. "You can't tell anyone, Tim. No one will believe me. They'll think I'm crazy and put me in an asylum or something."

"We'll prove it."

"But I don't know how."

"I do." Timothy said, picking up Emma's bag. "With this."

"My bag?"

"No, with what's inside the bag." He opened it and took out her cell phone, her wallet and her jacket. "This is your prove."

Emma sighed, looking at her belongings in Timothy's hand. "I suppose you're right. But..."

"But, what?"

"I don't know if I should. I don't want to change the past, or influence the future in some way."

Timothy frowned. "I didn't think about that. But i don't think it can be any harm. I mean, it won't change the future, right? I mean, doesn't going back in time creating some new universe?"

Emma sighed heavily. "I don't know. That's the problem."

"Don't worry." Timothy said. "We'll figure something out."

Emma sighed softly. "I hope so."

Suddenly, they heard a key in the door.

"Oh no." Timothy said, turning towards the hallway. "Hide. Quick."

"What?" Emma felt her heart beat in her chest. She looked around the room. "Where am I supposed to hide?"

But it was too late. A light brown haired woman in glasses rounded the corner, walking into the lounge. She took one look at the teenagers and frowned.

"Timothy? What are you doing here? And who is that? What's going on? Are you hurt?" The woman, who Emma assumed was his mother, rushed over to Timothy, checking him over. "Did the school call? I didn't get any messages."

Timothy swallowed. "I'm okay, mum."

Mrs Turner saw the guilty look on his face. "What is going on, here? Why are you not in school?" She frowned, looking between the two teenagers. "Timothy Turner, are you skipping school so you can hang out with your friend?"

Timothy swallowed. His silence said it all.

Mrs Turner sighed deeply. "Just wait until your father gets home."


	7. Chapter 7

The teenagers sat on the sofa, while Mrs Turner called her husband. They couldn't hear the words being spoken, but could hear it was a heated conversation.

They both swallowed when they heard her heels on the hallway floor, indicating she was heading back their way.

"Your father is on his way." Mrs Turner said, standing still in front of the teens. "I suggest you come up with a good reason as to why you're here and not in school."

The three sat in silence, both teenagers afraid to look Mrs Turner in the eye. The older woman read a magazine, sighing every few seconds. Every time she did, Timothy shifted in his seat.

Everyone stood, when they heard the front door open again.

A man Emma suspected to be Timothy's father, walked into the room. He frowned, looking at the two teenagers. "You better have a good reason, young man." He told his son. He turned to Emma. "And who are you? And how do you know each other? I know most of the families in Poplar, but I don't think I've ever seen you before." Mr Turner said.

"I'm not from Poplar. It's a long story. Your son was only helping me." Emma swallowed. "It's a bit hard to explain."

"Here." Timothy grabbed the backpack and handed it to her. "Use this."

Emma's hands shook as she accepted her bag.

"Are you okay, dear?" Mrs Turner asked, concerned. She felt a sort of connection to this girl, she couldn't quite place.

"Not really." Emma said. She took a few calming breaths. "I'm sorry. It's been a crazy 24 hours."

"Come, sit down." Mrs Turner said, pulling out a chair for her to sit on.

"Why don't you start at the beginning? I find it to be the perfect place." Mrs Turner encouraged her.

Emma took a deep breath before she started. "My name is Emma Miller. I am 15 years old." She paused before continuing. "I was born in 2002."

Mr Turner frowned. "Don't be playing games, young lady. This is no laughing matter."

"She's not, dad." Timothy interrupted. "She really is from the future. She can prove it, here." He grabbed the bag from the table and laid out her cell phone, her reading book, her wallet, and her jacket on the table.

Emma picked up her wallet and handed Mr Turner her id card.

The adults looked at the objects, before looking at the girl.

"Is this real?" Mr Turner asked softly.

Emma nodded. She cleared her throat. "Yes. I don't know how, but yes."

Mrs Turner closed her eyes and said a quick prayer.

Mr Turner sank down in a chair. "How?"

"I don't know." Emma said, close to tears.

"Hey, it's okay." Mr Turner said, leaning forward. He patter her hand. "I'm sure we can figure it out."

"I'll make us another cup of tea." Timothy said. He disappeared into the kitchen.

Mr Turner looked at his wife. She still hadn't said anything. He sighed before turning back towards the teenage girl. "What do you think happened?" He asked.

"I don't know." Emma took a deep breath. "I was walking in the forest, heading to school. Everything was fine, and next thing I know, I hit my head against a tree. I know it sounds absurd, but the tree came out of nowhere." She shook her head. "It wasn't until I came to the other side of the forest that I realised something big must've happened. And I realised I wasn't in Reigate anymore."

"Reigate?"

"That's where I'm from. My hometown." Emma shrugged. "Somewhere south of here. It's where I was this morning."

Timothy entered the lounge, carrying a tray with three cups and a teapot.

Mr Turner smiled. "Thank you, son."

Timothy sat down in the seat next to Emma.

"Have you made any plans, yet?" Mr Turner asked.

"I don't think it's quite sunk in yet. I mean, it's obvious everywhere I look. But, in my mind, it doesn't seem real. I just, can't quite understand that I'm not going back."

"Maybe you will." Timothy said. "Once we figure out how you got here, we can work on finding out how to get you back."

"Thank you." Emma said softly. She didn't share his optimism, but she can't deny the tingle of hope that's blossoming in her stomach. She swallowed. Maybe it wasn't hope after all.

"I'm sorry. Could I use your bathroom?" Emma asked.

"Of course." Mrs Turner said. "Go back to the front door, it's the first one on the left."

"Thanks." Emma stood up, and walked out of the room.

"So," Timothy asked, as soon as Emma was out of earshot. "What do you think?"

"We can certainly offer her shelter, until we find a more permanent place." Mr Turner said.

"Why can't she stay here?" Timothy asked. "She's my friend. Besides, we have plenty of space. She can share our room."

"Of course she can stay here." Mrs Turner said. "But it's not entirely up to us."

"And, don't think I've forgotten about you skipping school." Mr Turner warned his son. "We'll continue this conversation later."

Timothy nodded. He didn't look forward to the spanking, but he didn't regret the actions that landed him in hot water.

The trio grew silent as they heard the bathroom door open again.

In the bathroom, Emma leaned with her back against the door. What is she supposed to do, now. She needed to go, before she had a full blown panic attack. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her raging heart. All this talk about her options has made her scared. She took another deep breath, before flushing the toilet.

"I have to go." Emma said, walking back into the lounge. "I still have to find a place to stay tonight." She picked up her bag.

"Why don't you stay here?" Mrs Turner asked, standing up. She looked at her husband before looking at Emma again. "We would be happy to be your parents, even for a little while."

"I don't want another mother." Emma said, angrily. "I have one. And I can't handle another one. I'm fifteen years old. I don't need a parent. I just need a place to stay."

"You're still just a child, Emma." Mrs Turner said, trying to calm her down.

"I've seen too much to still be a child." Emma said.

"We understand that." Mr Turner said. "But to the world, you are still a child and needs someone to take care of you." He took a step closer to Emma. "Let that be us."

Emma sighed as she closed her eyes. But she nodded. "Thank you, Mr Turner."

"Patrick, please." He replied.

"And you can call me Shelagh." His wife added.

Emma smiled. "Thank you. It won't be for long."

"It will be for as long as needed." Shelagh said, squeezing Emma's hand.

The newly formed family sat around the table. A plate of biscuits for them to share.

Emma shifted in her seat. "I have to give you something back."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, clean the house or something. I need to earn my keep."

"You'll have chores, like Timothy. That's all."

"But what about clothes? Groceries?"

"Don't worry about any of that." Patrick said. "From now on, you're our daughter and we will look after you."

"If it makes you feel better, you could always help out Patrick at the clinic."

"Of course." Patrick confirmed. "We're always in need for more hands."

Emma nodded. "It would. Thanks."

"Good. Then that's settled." Shelagh said. She stood up and smiled at Emma. "Why don't we look through my closet and find you something else to wear. And some pyjamas. We'll go shopping tomorrow."

Emma nodded, standing up as well. "Okay."

Shelagh walked up the stairs.

Emma followed her. She looked back at Timothy, who smiled reassuringly back at her.


	8. Chapter 8

Emma followed Shelagh into the master bedroom.

"Why don't you sit down on the bed?" The woman said. "I'll see if I can find you something to wear for tomorrow." She opened the top drawer of her dresser. "I'll get you some clothes to sleep in as well."

Emma looked around the room while Shelagh was busy picking out her clothes. It was another cosy room. A double bed took up most of the room. Two dressers stood side by side. On their top stood many picture frames, of the two of them, and of their kids.

"You have a lovely family, Mrs Turner." Emma said.

Shelagh smiled. "Thank you. But you don't need to call me Mrs Turner, Shelagh is perfectly fine. And Patrick, for my husband."

She looked at the girl, sitting forlorn on the bed. She picked up the dress and the nightie, and sat down next to the teenager. "What about your family? It must be hard, being away from them."

Emma took a deep breath, before letting it out in a sad laugh. "My family and I … I don't know." She shrugged. "I guess. Not as hard as it probably should." She glanced at Shelagh before looking down at the floor. "We didn't always see eye to eye on things."

Shelagh squeezed her shoulder before standing up. "Come on, I'll put your clothes through the washer." She said. "I'm sure you'd like some familiar things to remind you of home." She opened the bag, and frowned. "Why are there two sets of clothes in here, if you were only heading to school?" She continued unpacking Emma's bag on to the bed. Her wallet. Her notebook. But no school supplies.

Emma grimaced. How was she supposed to explain this?

Shelagh looked at the items on the bed and suddenly she realised what was going on. She sighed softly. "You weren't heading to school, were you? You were running away."

Emma averted her gaze. "Does it really matter?"

"Not really. Only if you want to talk about it."

Emma shook her head. "Not now, please."

"Okay." Shelagh sat down next to Emma, their shoulders touching. "As long as you know you can always come talk to me, about anything. I'll never be too busy for you."

Emma swallowed the tears down and nodded.

"So," Shelagh said, standing up. She didn't want her to dwell on the negative for too long. She squeezed Emma's shoulder in silent support. "I'll show you to your new quarters."

Emma smiled shyly. She picked up her belongings and followed the woman down the hall.

Shelagh opened the door on the other side of the hall. "This will be your room. Well, yours, Angela's and Timothy's. I hope you don't mind sharing with them."

Emma shook her head. "I don't mind, really. I'm grateful I'm allowed to stay here." She looked around the room. On one side stood a single bed, on the other wall a cot. There where toys scattered on the floor. But, despite the mess, Emma smiled. It looked cosy. None of her bedrooms had ever looked like this.

Shelagh pulled out the mattress, hidden underneath Timothy's bed. "We'll find a better solution, but for now I'm afraid you'll have to sleep on the mattress on the floor."

Emma shrugged. "I slept on a stone floor last night. Trust me," She smiled. "A mattress sounds amazing right now." She shrugged. "Besides, I've shared a room with my brother for four years. I'm used to sharing."

"You must miss him."

"I do." Emma said, turning around to look at the shelves. "But not more than usual." She cleared her throat. "He died eight years ago." She explained.

Shelagh nodded. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Emma shrugged. "It's okay. Like I said, it was eight years ago."

Emma shifted on her feet.

Shelagh smiled. "I'll let you get settled in." Before she closed the door, Shelagh turned around one more time. "I believe God brought you here for a reason. I do hope that comforts you." She smiled and closed the door.

Emma sank on to the bed, her head in her hands. The events of the last two days caught up to her. She really was in the past. How could that have happened? And how is she ever going to get back? What is she going to do? A single tear founds its way down her cheek.


	9. Chapter 9

Patrick was waiting for his wife at the bottom of the stairs. Shelagh walked into the loving arms of her husband. "Is she okay?" He asked.

"She's putting her things away." Shelagh laid her head on his chest. "I told her, Patrick, I believe God brought her into our lives for a reason. And I think it's for the same reason he gave us Angela and Edward. To love on them."

Patrick kissed her on the head. "What makes you say so?"

Shelagh sighed. "She was running away."

"From home?"

"I think so, yes."

Patrick pulled his wife closer. "Well, we'll just have to show her what a real family is like."

"But what will we tell the Sisters? And the rest of Poplar?" Shelagh fretted.

"Let's not think about that, now." He said, holding her hand and leading her back to the living room. "Tonight, let's just begin by making her feel part of this family."

Emma walked down the stairs. She could hear laughing voices in the lounge. The sound made her smile. It had been awhile since she's felt this relaxed. It surprised her that she felt this at ease already.

She walked into the room, a little surprised to see Timothy laughing with his parents. Was he not in trouble still?

Shelagh's smile broadened when she spotted Emma. "Hello, dear. I was just preparing to go. Why don't you come with me? We'll pick Angela up and head around the corner, to get some fish and chips."

"Isn't Timothy coming with us?"

Patrick shook his head. "He and I need to have a conversation."

Emma looked at her friend and grimaced. "Don't be too angry, please. He was only trying to help me."

"The conversation will be between him and I." Patrick said. "But you don't need to worry." He smiled. "I'm sympathetic to his reasons."

Shelagh stood up. "Let's get ready, then. We don't want to be late picking up the little one."

Emma followed her into the hallway.

"Why don't you wear one of my coats?" Shelagh suggested, looking at Emma's coat. "Yours might not be warm enough."

Emma blushed, but accepted the woman's coat. She smiled, it smelled like her. She turned away as she frowned. Don't get too attached, she thought too herself. You don't know how long this will last.

She followed the other woman out of the door.

Patrick and Timothy waved goodbye, as the other two left the house.

Timothy swallowed. He knew what was coming next. And indeed, his father rested his hand on Timothy's shoulder. "Come on, son. It's time for our talk. Let's go to your room."

Patrick held his arm around his son, the whole way up. He wanted Tim to be sure they still loved him, even though he was about to be spanked.

Patrick sat down on Timothy's bed. His son stood in front of him.

"Why are you getting this spanking?" Patrick asked.

"I know I shouldn't have kept secrets from you, but you like Emma. Aren't you happy I brought her home?"

"You're right, I do like Emma. And I'm very happy you brought her home. But this isn't about her. This is about you, skipping school." Patrick sighed. "I understand you did it for the noblest of reasons, but skipping school is never a good idea. Your education is important to your mother and I. We want you to succeed in live, and the best way to do that is through a good education."

Timothy nodded. "I know."

"That's why you're getting this spanking." Patrick continued. "For skipping school. Not for helping Emma." He smiled. "I'm proud of you, son."

Timothy looked up, shocked.

Patrick smiled. "I am proud of you for helping Emma the way you did. It shows the kind of man you are becoming."

Timothy blushed.

Patrick smiled, but nodded. He didn't want to embarrass his son any longer. He scooted back on the bed and rolled up his sleeves. "Come here, son."

Timothy swallowed before standing on the right side of his father. He undid his zip and pushed his trousers to the floor. He pushed himself up over his father's legs. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. One hand held onto his father's leg, the other was balanced on the floor.

Patrick pushed Timothy's boxers down. He rubbed a few comforting circles on his son's back. He knew how nervous his son could get, waiting for a spanking.

Patrick held back a sigh as he raised his hand, and let it fell in the centre of Timothy's bottom. He didn't wait long before letting his hand fall a second time, and then a third.

Timothy yelped. No matter how many spankings he has been given, the first smack always took him by surprise.

Patrick settled into a steady rhythm. He didn't spoke as he spanked. They both knew the reasons for this spanking. Nothing more needed to be said.

Timothy started to fully cry, tears running down his cheeks. And he went limp, fully accepting the punishment.

Patrick couldn't continue. His son's actions had been noble. It hadn't been the worst spanking he had ever given his son, but he just couldn't continue. He didn't want to drag it on. He wanted him to remember this day with proudness, not with embarrassment. With one last final swat, he rested his hand on his son's backside. He started rubbing circles on Timothy's back, whispering soothing words. "It's alright, son. Let it out. We love you."


	10. Chapter 10

Later that evening, Timothy walked down the stairs. His family was gathered in the lounge. "So," He said, sitting down gently on the other sofa. "You can see the future."

"Timothy." Shelagh protested. She was sitting on the floor, playing with Angela.

Emma rolled her eyes. "I can't predict the future. I'm from the future. There's a difference."

"But you know the future."

"I know some things, yeah."

"Well?"

"What?" Emma asked, starting to get annoyed.

Patrick intercepted. "Tim, stop bothering your sister."

"Tell us some things." Timothy continued. "Come on, dad. Aren't you curious too?"

"I don't know if I should." Emma hesitated. She hadn't missed the way Patrick had referred to her. She put it in the back of her mind to be examined later. "I don't want to change the future." She took a deep breath. "I don't want to risk changing things, if I ever get back."

"You think you'll be able to get back?"

Emma sighed. "I have to try, right?"

Shelagh smiled softly. "And we'll help you, any way we can." She stood up, lifting the toddler up into her arms. "I think it's time for Angela's bedtime." She used Angela's arm to wave at her family. "Goodnight."

The others waved back.

Shelagh walked down the stairs. She smiled, looking at her family gathered in the lounge. She joined her husband on the sofa, and turned to Emma. "What did you used to do, on evening like this?"

"I'd be with friends. We'd talk." Emma smiled sadly. "About anything but ourselves. We were so different, and yet, we fit together so nicely." She cleared her throat. "It's funny, but, what I miss most is the music." Emma shook her head. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's true. I miss the music. And my phone." She snorted. "Gosh, talk about being addicted."

Shelagh smiled kindly. "It's okay to miss your friends."

"It's not going to bring them here, is it? Until I find a way, if I ever find a way, to get back, I have to put them out of my mind. It's only going to make me sad."

Shelagh put her arms around the teenager.

Emma froze before leaning into the touch.

Shelagh squeezed her shoulders and Emma smiled. Maybe she could get used to this instead.


End file.
